Official - Gerry Gow Tribute

If I can get someone to pick the kids up from school I hope to go to the funeral to pay my respect. I've been lucky enough to bump into Gerry a few times down here and he always had time to chat and share some of his memories, some good, some not so good and a few laughs. When we played Hull at Wembley on the Weymouth - Waterloo train was his son Chris, a nice bloke, we chatted about the good old days but unfortunately said his Dad didn't want to go to the match. Gerry will always be one of my all time heroes if not my biggest.

 

i won't be there for obvious reasons, but my heart will be.
if anyone here says a prayer, say one from me...

Gerry Gow - the finest player ever to wear a City shirt

 

one of a few of the finest to have worn a city shirt ... and certainly one of the finest in the last 50 years .........

 

Yann Tear a brilliant piece on Gerry Gow-


I hadn’t planned on going to Bristol City’s home game with Blackburn this weekend.
City may be my team, but commitments in London inevitably restrict my visits these days and I have to make do with trips down the M4 whenever I can fit them in.
But all that changed in an instant when the terribly sad news emerged that my boyhood footballing hero, Gerry Gow, had passed away at the age of 64. This is one emotionally charged moment I simply can’t miss. The first game at Ashton Gate following the announcement.
It is a strange thing that tug on the heartstrings from decades ago. Those distant images frozen in time. But it is exactly this which binds us to a club forever – or at least those of us with a soul who can never switch allegiance, whatever else happens in our lives.
In truth, relatively little I knew of the Ashton Gate I first visited as a youngster in the early 70s remains. Only one of the stands that existed then is still there (The Dolman) and that has been upgraded to the point of being unrecognisable from days of yore.
There are no floodlight pylons any more. There is no open end on the park side. The humble old club shop has made way for a bigger version on the other side of the stadium. The Wedlock pub just outside has long gone.
Perhaps the only consistent symbol is the location – and many a fan has had his or her childhood memory ripped up altogether at clubs where the need for a new super-structure has entailed upping sticks to a different part of town.
It all increases the currency of those cherished sepia images that exist in the mind as much in actual footage. In my imagination, I will forever see this little Scottish warrior tearing into the opposition. The heartbeat of the very best team we ever had.
Perhaps the most amazing thing about Gow was that he received fairly modest recognition for such a talented player.
In the era of instantaneous, multi-media channels we now live in, there is no chance of a player like him slipping under the radar as he once seemed to do.
He was the equivalent for me of the discovery of a great band nobody has heard of. And he was ours. He belonged to us. Whenever others made the discovery, I felt a surge of indescribable pride that we found him first.
A panicked Don Revie famously exhorted his Leeds United players to ‘Get on the number four’ who was making a right nuisance of himself when City clashed with the all-conquering Yorkshiremen in the 1973-4 FA Cup.
Imagine that. A future England manager like Revie, apparently to become obsessed with compiling detailed dossiers on opponents, but not able to name-check Gow. He knew who he was after that.
Gow was terrorising a team who at that point were cutting a swathe through teams in the old First Division while Bristol City languished in the lower reaches of the Second.
The ‘Number Four’ it was who set up the famous Keith Fear equaliser that day with a typical piece of midfield hustling, followed by a sublime through ball. Right there was everything we City fans knew about him. Touch and vision to accompany the undiminished thirst for the combat. Our hunter-gatherer. Our inspiration. He epitomised the work-ethic of Alan Dicks’ developing side. But he could play too.
When Liverpool visited Ashton Gate in the quarter-final after City had famously beaten that Super Leeds team 1-0 at Elland Road in a replay, I remember one fan in a broad Scouse accent near me on the open end terrace saying to his mate: ‘He’s really good their midfielder. What’s his name? Cow?’ They knew a good player when they saw one.
Even when City reached the top flight, I’d say his amazing contributions were only marginally more in the public eye. In the days of a two-game Match of the Day, he simply did not get the universal exposure that has become the norm. Underestimated. Pigeon-holed as simply a hard-working midfield battler. But we knew better.
There is little doubt that had he been with one of the more fashionable, established sides from an early age, he would have earned more than one Under23 cap for Scotland.
Sir Alex Ferguson could not help but note his admiration for our ‘little terrier’ in one of his books. Praise does not come much higher than that.
Had he been playing now and not competing with Billy Bremner, Graeme Souness and Archie Gemmill, Gow would surely have been a regular for his country. By the time he moved to John Bond’s Man City, he had already given us the best years of his knees.
But none of that mattered. Gow’s part in City’s glorious march to the top division guaranteed his cult status, as did the moment that launched a thousand T-shirts when he grabbed opposition midfielder Frankie Prince by the scruff of the neck in a derby clash with Rovers.
Even more than that, for young lads like me going to the Gate for the first time, he was the archetypal boyhood hero. To this day he remains a straggle-haired presence in my heart. The image of a guy who never gives in. The ideal role model, if you like.
When City went 2-0 down at Coventry in their final match of that inaugural season in the top division – a match we needed to draw in order to stay up – it felt like our dream was over. I wanted to leave the stadium there and then. I should have known better. Gerry led the fightback, scoring the goal that gave us hope before fellow Scot Donnie Gillies hit an unforgettable equaliser.
So overwhelmed was I by his example on the pitch that I modified my own game. Having been a goal-poaching striker when first turning out for school and Sunday League sides, I now wanted to shape a game from midfield – to put in some crunching tackles and dictate tempo.
While others at school were idolising Kevin Keegan or Eddie Gray, I wanted to be Gerry Gow. I wanted to have the same tape around the bottom of my shin-pads that he used. I would have developed a Scottish accent, if I could.
There will be others out there just like me, who know the memory will never fade. Part of our childhood for many of us, and destined to remain forever part of our adulthood too.

 

Awesome....

 

An inspired piece, a fitting work for Gerry Gow's big day
One I have kept

 

I'll be in half this pm.

 

Wonderful thoughts and memories RR. Thank you.